Ihsahn The Paranoid
[...] motion
[...]
[...] and physical pain was such
[...]
This sphere of isolation
A hall of mirrors multiplying
Grotesque features
of a golden idol
Melting fast in the fires
of confession
Dim lights from a dying coal
cast a silhouette upon
the soot-smeared window
the unsolvable crime
And the shame feeds the anger
feeds the shame
feeds the anger
feeds the shame
And the heart implodes
like a faithless star
beating with words
beating fast
Into the colds of nothingness
Beyond redemption
